


Where There's Love, There's Life

by iknowhowyoukiss



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Pirate Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknowhowyoukiss/pseuds/iknowhowyoukiss
Summary: It's a typical morning in the Swan-Jones household for Emma, Killian and Hope. That is, until Emma notices a delightful new addition to her husband's wardrobe.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 133





	Where There's Love, There's Life

**Author's Note:**

> Domestic CS, ahoy! Inspired by that Colin hoodie selfie. You know the one. I'm shameless. :)

There’s little else that Emma Swan-Jones loves waking up to more than the smell of coffee. Well, _that_ , and the sounds of her husband and daughter laughing together, and since both of those things are currently transpiring, she considers it to be _the best_ morning ever.  


She rolls from her side to face the ceiling and stretches noisily, feeling a twinge in her lower back and a soreness in her hips that she hasn’t felt in some time. The rest of her aches as well, but in a pleasant way and it makes the corners of her mouth tip up remembering the reasons for it. She catches a sliver of light peeking in from a crack in the curtains covering the windows and wonders how late Killian’s allowed her to sleep in, although considering it _was_ his fault for keeping her up half the night, it’s only fair he give her the luxury. 

A commotion downstairs suddenly echoes through the walls and draws her attention, Killian’s playful screams followed by Hope’s contagious giggling, and her smile grows ten-fold. He’s so good with her, the very definition of doting and loving father, but that’s a fact that’s always surprised him more than her. Given how incredible of a man he is, and how he’s been all these years with her and Henry, Emma knew it was only natural that he would be. 

She gives herself a second for it all to wash over her, remembering a chapter in their lives after Henry had left when the house sometimes felt _too_ quiet. It was amazing having that time to themselves, of course. It had been like an endless honeymoon phase that allowed her and Killian the opportunity to reinforce the bonds of their friendship, strengthen their intimacy, and deepen their love. She wouldn’t trade that time for anything. But having Hope was indeed one of their biggest blessings, filling their hearts and lives with _so much_ \-- more laughter, more happiness, and more love. It’s truly a wonder that neither of them have exploded from it yet. 

Emma would never say that their life was better now than it was before, though, just that it’s become _richer_ in many and unexpected ways. Then again, every moment she’s ever shared with Killian has been like that. She counts her lucky stars every day that she has this, that she has _them_ , and it’s that thought that finally draws her from bed. 

She looks like a fright when she gets a glimpse of herself in the mirror above their dresser, tired around the eyes, her hair a tangled mess -- also thanks to Killian and his relentless fingers. There’s not much to be done about the bags or the darkness beneath them, but the hair? That at least she can tie up into a knot at the top of her head before heading down. She throws on his robe as an afterthought, his favorite one that she likes to steal on occasion because it’s so cozy.

Stepping into the hallway only intensifies the noises drifting up from the floor below and she’s even more curious to see what kind of shenanigans Killian and his mini-me have gotten up to this morning. She passes a plethora of photos hanging up on the walls as she pads down the corridor, pictures from their wedding day and Henry’s last night in Storybrooke, Hope’s first birthday, Killian with Henry, his younger brother, Liam, and her father on a fishing trip last year, Emma with Hope and Snow aboard the Jolly Roger. Holidays and everydays with family and friends, all evidence of a life being well-lived. 

As she begins to head down the stairs she catches sight of Killian on his back in the living room, balancing Hope on the lower part of his legs like an airplane while she holds tightly to his hand and hook, and Emma can’t help but pause midway to enjoy the picture they make. To her endless amusement, the tail of a crocodile plushie is trapped between Hope and Killian’s fingers. It was a gift from David, affectionately named ‘Tick-Tock,’ and their daughter loves it more than anything, rarely letting it out of sight and grasp for too long. 

Killian chuckles all while yelling incoherencies that make Hope chortle with equal delight. She’s just passed two now, and with her dark hair and light eyes and sweet little dimples, is every bit her father’s daughter. Hope’s inherited more than just his looks though, at a tender age she’s already displayed hints of his same adventurous spirit, his stubbornness, his fearlessness, and most of all his big, soft heart. 

“Oh no! Captain, there’s been an engine malfunction!” Killian says, dropping one of his legs slightly so Hope and Tick-Tock bobble precariously in place. “Do you copy?”

She squeals, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I copy! I! Copy!” 

“Hello? Captain, come in, do you copy?” Killian repeats, moving his legs side to side to imitate gliding. “Oh no! The Captain’s unresponsive!”

“Daddy! No ‘sponse!” 

“Oh no, oh no! The plane’s going down! Ahhh!”

He brings his knees in and lifts his feet into the air so Hope slides down onto his chest, both of them screaming as he does. He rolls slightly, being mindful of crushing her and Tick-Tock, and tickles her side with his hand. She lets out another peal of laughter as Emma leans against the bannister, cheeks aching with her smile while her heart squeezes sweetly in her chest. 

“Again, Daddy! Again!”

Killian falls onto his back, huffing dramatically. “ _Again?_ Daddy’s too old for ‘again,’ Cygnet.”

Hope crawls back onto his chest, poking at his cheeks as she does so and Killian gets a face full of crocodile plushie. Emma snickers under her breath, 100% seeing the irony of it and knowing with unwavering certainty that her father knew _exactly_ what he was doing buying that toy for his granddaughter. 

“Tree hundred!” Hope agrees.

“Actually, probably closer to four, at this point,” Emma pipes up, teasingly. 

Two pairs of twin eyes snap to her.

“Mommy!” Hope cries, scrambling up to run towards her on adorably wobbly legs. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed that those legs only become sturdier with each passing day, however. A fact Emma tries not to cry too much about. She can’t stop Hope from growing, but she can savor every second that Hope’s still a teeny, tiny human who still gets excited to see her mom.

Emma grins, bounding down the rest of the way to catch Hope at the bottom of the steps. “Hope!” she echoes, laughing lightly and giving her kid a squeeze as her little limbs wrap tightly around her. 

Hope rests her head against Emma’s shoulder, turning her face into her mother’s neck and lifting her plushie to show her. “Tick-Tock!”

“Tick-Tock!” Emma says with the same enthusiasm she did when greeting Hope. She runs a hand affectionately over the little girl’s head; her pigtails are in utter disarray from playing with her father, but it’s hard to care when Emma’s getting an extra big morning cuddle.

“She is changed, fed, and ready for nap time,” Killian announces, standing up and wandering over to them.

Emma’s eyes shift to her husband then, but she starts before she can reply, her brows promptly arching up towards her hairline. Now that he’s in front of her and she gets a proper look at him, she discovers that there have been some very, _very_ interesting developments since he’d woken up and gotten out of bed that morning.

“No nap!” Hope argues, lifting her head to scowl at her father. She shakes it fiercely. 

Emma would undoubtedly find it adorable, if she weren’t so distracted by Killian. He is similarly only half paying attention to Hope, his bright-eyed gaze trained on Emma.

“Cygnet,” he tells Hope. “What do you think about you and Tick-Tock making Mommy a plate for breakfast?”

She lights up at that, beaming at both of her parents. “Yeah! Tick-Tock help! Mommy eat! Brefast! Brefast!” She wiggles excitedly, eager to get down and be relinquished from Emma’s hold.

As she darts off into the kitchen, Killian’s smile blooms knowingly. “Good morning, wife,” he greets, innocently enough, but his voice takes on that flirting tone Emma knows far too well.

“Morning,” she replies, scanning him from head to toe. She lifts her eyes again, giving him a curious look.

“I went on a jog early this morning with your father, before you and Hope were up,” he says by way of explanation.

She tilts her head at him, enjoying the feeling that flutters in her stomach as she continues to stare. They’ve been together for many years now, but even the passing of time can’t seem to dim the very physical attraction that still exists between them.

The sweatpants and sneakers are well-loved and a drastic contrast to the clothes she usually sees him in, but nothing new. As is the baseball cap he’s borrowed from her. Now the hoodie with the sleeves chopped off on the other hand? _Definitely_ new.

“You do some online shopping recently?” she wonders.

There it is again, that insufferable smirk she can’t help but love. “See something you like, wife?” he asks, leading with his hips and shuffling into her space as hand and hook anchor against her own hips.

Emma shrugs casually, but the increased rhythm of her heart betrays her, as do the way her hands grasp onto his forearms and begin a slow ascent up to his shoulders. She deliberately traces her fingertips over the ridges of his biceps -- another thing that fails to go unnoticed by her, the changes in his physique since he’s increased his fitness in the last few months -- and her mouth tips up at the way his eyes darken.

Two can play that game.

“So how often _have_ you been working out with my dad again?”

Killian swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing and drawing her eyes down to it before landing back on his lips. “A few times a week,” he replies, his tone low and husky.

She hums noncommittally, linking her arms around his neck and inching closer so her hips press against his. “Well, you _are_ an old man now so I suppose you _do_ have to keep that stamina up to keep up with our two year-old.”

“And with _you_ ,” he grins.

“Hey, if memory serves, _you_ were the insatiable one last night,” she murmurs, keeping her voice low for Hope’s sake. 

“You and I are remembering last night very differently,” he replies in equally hushed but amused tones.

She grins as she tugs the hood of his sweater down and reaches around to grasp the bill of his hat, turning it backwards so it’s out of the way. Flirting is an old dance between them, but hardly a tired one, and her lips tingle with delightful anticipation as he begins to lean his head down. 

“I don’t believe I’ve kissed you good morning yet, Emma.”

“Oh, you definitely haven’t, Killian,” she nods solemnly. 

“Well, allow me to remedy that straight away.”

“‘Kay,” she sighs as his breath fans hot over her lips. 

“ _Daddy_!” Hope’s shrill screech cuts through the air, effectively shattering the moment. 

“Snow’s granddaughter through and through,” he grumbles. 

His sigh makes Emma giggle, and even though they’ve been interrupted, she keeps close, tangling her fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck as they turn their heads to glance in Hope’s direction.

“Aye, Cygnet?” Killian asks.

She’s scowling at them, brows pinched together with her frown, her hands on her hips in a stance that is _all_ Emma. Tick-Tock lays on the floor at her feet. “Daddy, no kiss!” she chides and then points to the dishes very much out of her reach. “Plate! Mommy eat brefast!”

Emma gives Killian an amused look. “Yeah, Daddy, no kiss. Mommy wants to eat, she’s very, _very_ hungry.” 

He doesn’t miss the heated inflection in her tone, she can tell by the way he clears his throat, but he ignores the deliberate slide of her hand down his chest before it begins to toy with one of the strings of his hoodie. 

“Do you think your parents would want to take Hope for a playdate with her uncle after breakfast?” he whispers to her.

“What, so we can have our own, ahem, _playdate_ in the middle of the morning?”

He gives her a bland stare. “ _Yeah?_ ” he nods, like he can’t believe she’s even asked him that. 

“ _Killian Jones!_ ” she laughs, but she pushes up onto her toes to give him a smacking kiss on the mouth. “Once a pirate, always a pirate.”

She tries to move away then, but Killian is faster, hauling her back against him for a proper morning greeting. “And don’t you forget it.”

It’s the last thing she hears, getting a quick glimpse of his dashing grin before his lips close over hers and she proceeds to melt into him.

“ _No! Kiss!_ ” Hope chastises again, stomping her foot for good measure. 

Emma can’t help but giggle against his mouth, happy and so full of love for him and their little girl. She pulls back to look at him again, her arms remaining linked around his neck, and it warms the whole of her from the inside out to see him looking equally as content.

“This really, _really_ works for me by the way,” she tells him as she finally eases out of his arms. 

His eyes sparkle as her fingers flutter over his bicep again, shifting his gaze to watch them move all the way up to tug playfully on the cropped sleeve resting against his deltoid. She leaves him with a coy little look over her shoulder before turning and scooping Hope up into her arms once more. The promise of a quiet moment for themselves -- later -- rests heavy and hopeful in the air.

* * *

Laundry day in the Swan-Jones household is chaotic at best and Killian still hasn’t figured out where all of Hope’s socks keep disappearing off to in the dryer. Emma continues to insist there are no gremlins or portals in the spinning wheel of death that are pilfering their daughter’s footwear, but Killian isn’t entirely convinced. This particular morning, however, he finds that he’s missing more than just Hope’s socks. 

“Emma?” he calls out, rifling through the clothes he’s already folded and double checking to make sure he hadn’t accidentally missed it. When he gets no reply, he rises and makes his way upstairs. “Emma, sweetheart, have you seen my sweater?”

“What?” she calls from the end of the hall where the master bedroom is.

“My sweater,” he repeats.

“Which one? You have a lot of them, be more specific!” 

“The hoodie,” he says, poking his head through the open doorway. “The one I’ve been using to workout in, without the sleeves-”

He comes up short, jolting to a stop in the threshold as his words cut off at the sight of his wife. Emma is propped against their pillows with a book in her hands and her glasses perched on her nose, wearing an innocent expression along with said sweater and little else, if the tiny peek of skin through the loose sleeve is anything to go by.

“You okay there, Captain?” she asks, glancing up at him. But her eyes are dancing as she says it.

“Bloody hell, love, are you _naked_ under there?”

“It’s laundry day.”

Every drop of blood Killian has in his body proceeds to move swiftly southward. It takes him a second, but when he’s gotten his bearings, he steps into the room. “You steal my heart,” he mutters. 

She grins at that, that beaming smile he loves so much. 

“You steal my clothes,” he continues, crossing the small space to the foot of their bed.

“Yup,” she replies matter-of-factly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word as she nods. 

Killian shakes his head, hand and hook coming up to rest on his waist. “Is there no limit to what you won’t pilfer?” 

She hums, contemplating him for a moment while she taps a finger against her bottom lip. “Your dignity, maybe?”

“Oh no, believe me, you’ve stolen that as well.” His chuckle rumbles lowly in his chest as he reaches out to grasp her ankle and tug her to the end of the mattress. 

She squeals at the sudden movement but the book she’s holding quickly flies across the room, landing on the wood floor with a heavy thud as she reaches for him. 

“Why do you love this bloody thing so much?” he asks, tugging at the strings of the hoodie.

“What? It’s comfortable. Besides, it looks good on you,” she replies, stroking a finger affectionately over the scar on his cheek. 

“It looks better on you.”

“I know,” she smirks.

“Where’s our demon offspring?” he says lovingly.

“Napping. For another half an hour.”

“If we’re lucky,” he mumbles, but his hand has already begun to wander beneath the sweater.

“Then you better hurry,” she tells him, laughing lightly while her feet try to inch down the sweats hanging low on his hips and her hands begin to pull at his t-shirt.

He grins, cheerful and bright. “As the lady commands!”

_Fin_


End file.
